


A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation

by Dodoa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, John is a Good Friend, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Unilock, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodoa/pseuds/Dodoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think there’s something wrong with me”, he finally let out in a rush.</p>
<p>“What makes you think that?” Sherlock knew the ‘I don’t think so’ was implied. With John it always was.</p>
<p>Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this about half a year ago, when i was trying to figure myself out. I decided to clean it up a bit and inserted some actual plot into my ramblings (not that there is a whole lot of plot now), because it's Asexual Awareness Week and I wanted to do something.

“John?” Sherlock mumbled into his book, half hoping he wouldn’t be heard.

“What is it?” John looked up from his notes, waiting patiently. He’d obviously already picked up on Sherlock’s aborted attempts at communication over the last months.

Sherlock clenched his teeth, took a deep breath. It was now or never, well not exactly never, just later, surely it could wait another day, he could just stop talking, like he had the last 27 times, just postpone it once more – NO! He had to do this now or he’d never get up the courage. “I think there’s something wrong with me”, he finally let out in a rush.

“What makes you think that?” Sherlock knew the ‘I don’t think so’ was implied. With John it always was.

“I just don’t get it!” Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming in frustration, he didn’t understand why this was upsetting him so much, he couldn’t even talk about it calmly, which he would have to do if he wanted John to understand him.

“Get what?”

Sherlock wanted to answer, to explain, but he was already getting worked up and they hadn’t even properly started yet, he knew he couldn’t hope to get much further today so he figured, better stop now with most of his dignity intact. He needed an out, and he took the most obvious one, another indicator of how much of his capacity this problem was using up and he wasn’t even sure what the problem was. Was there even a problem?

They were sitting on John’s dorm room floor, books haphazardly strewn around them, revising for John’s immunology exam. John had offered to help Sherlock study as well, but he had declined, stating that university was still as disappointingly non-challenging as it was when he started. He was just here, because between rugby, John’s girlfriend and exam week looming on the horizon the price for John’s company was endless studying.

“Never mind it’s stupid... So name and describe the different isotypes of Immunoglobulines.”

“IgG is the most prevalent, and does most of the work, IgM is mostly produced at the beginning of the immune response, because its a tetramer and therefore has more binding sites, giving it a higher avidity as long as affinity is still low, IgA is a dimer and responsible for mucosal immunity, IgE causes histamine release from mastcells which is the reason for allergies and IgD is mostly found on the surface of non-activated B-cells, also you’re deflecting.” Dammit! Why did John have to choose today of all days to be observant?

“I thought you wanted me to help you studying?” Sherlock tried to deflect further.

“We’ve been at it for hours already, I feel as if my brain is overflowing and something’s obviously bothering you. I think this calls for a break, don’t you think? So what don’t you get?” John just wasn’t letting it go, he had to get out, make it clear he didn’t want to talk about this any further.

“Nothing, I always get everything, I’ll get us some tea, shall I?” And with that he was out of the door like a whirlwind, leaving John behind in a pile of books and notes, with a confused expression on his face.

While Sherlock was making the tea, in the communal kitchen of the floor he convinced himself for the sixteenth time on that day alone that he should just talk to John. John would understand, John always understood, at least when it came to these sorts of things. John also never got tired of explaining social conventions to him, so why would this be any different? But every time Sherlock started talking, it just suddenly seemed silly and completely irrelevant, despite the fact that obsessing about it used up quite a bit of his mental faculties.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready” John said as Sherlock settled down on the floor again, two cups of tea in hand. When Sherlock failed to answer he continued: “Look, I’ve noticed your distraction for the last few weeks, and if I’m noticing it now, it’s probably been going on for much longer than that. And even if I hadn’t, you just used making tea as an escape tactic Sherlock”, a small grin was stealing on his face. “You haven’t made tea of your own accord once in the time I’ve known you and...” John took a deep breath “What I mean to say is: I know there’s something bothering you and I know it’s a big deal for you and while I wish you would tell me, because I want to help if I can, and I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on, and there is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would stop me from being your friend, you know that, right? It’s fine if you can’t tell me yet, and I’ll be there to listen when you can. It’s all fine.”

“Thank you, I... I think... I might... never mind”, Johns monologue had caught him off guard, he hadn’t expected John to pursue the topic any further after his hurried exit a few minutes prior, John normally got hints like that, but it seemed he had in a way, he just hadn’t done what Sherlock thought he would. John never did what Sherlock anticipated, he should just stop being so surprised.

“It’s fine”

They settled back into their usual routine, John studying and Sherlock injecting random questions about MHC proteins, T-cells or the complement system from time to time.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later they were again sitting in John’s dorm, studying. This time Sherlock had come prepared, he had actually thought about what he wanted to say, beyond the simple instruction of ‘ask John’. Still it had taken hours of studying to work up the nerve to start. John had already started to stifle yawns every now and then and would soon end their studying session. It was now or never – or tomorrow.

“Um... John?”

“Yea?” John barely looked up from his book, but Sherlock could tell by the way he sat up a bit straighter and his eyes lost their focus on the page, that he was paying close attention and was deliberately trying to put him at ease by sparing him the scrutiny. Sherlock wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for this or resent it.

“I’m... um... trying to... figure something out...” brilliant, barely two sentences into the conversation, and he was already stuttering, why couldn’t he talk about this like a normal person? He was the guy who was known for telling people embarrassing things about themselves without batting an eye all the time!

“Okay.” John reinforced the message of ‘I’m listening’ without looking up from his book.

“Do you mind if... if I ask you some questions?” Stupid, Sherlock asked John questions all the time, asking if he could, would only draw more attention to these specific questions than Sherlock was strictly comfortable with. He’d intended for this to be a random conversation over their studies, but somehow he had buggered it up in the first tree sentences!

“Course not, ask away.” John replied without calling Sherlock out on his unusual behaviour, so Sherlock decided to continue as if this was a regular not at all terrifying-for-unknown-reasons conversation even if they both knew it wasn’t.

“Um... some of them... might be... um... a bit personal. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Alright, the regular not at all terrifying-for-unknown-reasons conversation wasn’t going to happen. The stuttering was only getting worse and the meaningless filler sentences just kept coming. Sherlock never put disclaimers before his personal questions like that, so why now? Maybe because a part of him hoped that John would cut this train wreck of a conversation short by refusing, but John would never do that, would he?

“All right, now I’m scared. Sherlock, you started our first conversation with: What did your mum die of; doesn’t get much more personal than that.” John said with mock fear in his eyes, having switched his tactic for trying to calm Sherlock from blatant non-confrontation to their usual banter. And strangely enough, it was working.

“You wanted to talk about that, and no one dared to ask you.” Sherlock smirked at the memory of the new boy at school, walking in after the teacher had finished telling the class: ‘His mum just died, don’t ask him about her’, thereby preventing most kids from talking to John at all.

“True, but we’re getting off topic. What horribly personal questions did you want to ask?” John was keeping his tone light and teasing, trying to calm Sherlock further, but this time he was fighting a losing battle.

“Grace...” Sherlock didn’t get any further than that before his brain annoyingly decided to disconnect from his speech apparatus and left him floundering.

“My girlfriend? What about her?” John was prompting him gently, giving Sherlock’s brain a chance to reconnect and finally ask his first real question.

“Why do you like her?” Sherlock nearly added ‘not that she isn’t likeable, in fact she’s a far better choice than any of the other recent candidates’, but caught himself just in time before he could do another horribly out of character thing by going out of his way to avoid offending John.

“Well, she’s funny, easygoing, intelligent, gets along with you... why wouldn’t I like her?” See John wasn’t offended at all, he barely ever was. Now his answer, Sherlock had expected something different, going by the way John looked at girls and talked about women on the telly.

“You only listed personality traits, so you don’t like her... for her looks?” Sherlock highly doubted that, again judging from how John couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her when she was in the room, but he had to make sure.

“Of course I do, her looks were what made me ask her out in the first place, but if I hadn’t liked the rest of her too, there wouldn’t have been a second date.” So he had been right. Interesting. And slightly worrying.

“So... you’re attracted to her?” Just to clarify once more. It wouldn’t do to make a mistake now. Also, talking semantics was an opportunity to win another few seconds of not talking about himself.

“Course I am, I thought that would be obvious.” Apparently his subtle ploy to keep the conversation stagnant hadn’t been so subtle after all.

“Why?” There was nothing for it, he just had to know.

“Why am I attracted to her, or why would it be obvious?” Oh, maybe he had been subtle after all and John had been serious, instead of calling Sherlock out on his deflection.

“The first one.” Would ‘How?’ have been a better line of questioning? Too late now.

“She’s got gorgeous lips, full and smooth, and the way she licks them sometimes... And then there’s her arse, she has those jeans that just fit like a second skin and – “

“I asked why, not what, John.”

“Huh... I don’t... I guess she’s just my type. I’m not being very helpful, am I?”

“Um... not really, no. It’s just that I don’t understand!” Sherlock was starting to get a bit frustrated, he’d thought that John would have answers, that John, with all his experience with women would be able to explain, but apparently he was just as clueless as Sherlock, just from a different perspective.

“Don’t understand what? Why I’m attracted to my girlfriend?” John was now sporting a slightly suspicious face, as if he had an idea where this conversation might be leading, what Sherlock was trying to tell him. John was probably wrong in his conjecture if precedent could be trusted, but Sherlock hoped he wasn’t, because then maybe he wouldn’t have to spell it out.

“Not just your girlfriend...” For the second time in this wretched conversation, Sherlock found that he couldn’t finish his sentence, well there was to hope that John’s speculation had been right after all.

“So... girls in general? Sherlock are you trying to tell me you’re gay? You know – “, no of course, hoping that John would make a correct deduction had always been a pointless endeavour.

“No! Don’t be dull, if I was attracted to guys, there would be no need to ask those questions, that conversation wouldn’t take more than two minutes and would end with some variation of ‘you know there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m glad you told me, Indian or Chinese for dinner’ Simple, boring.” It was true, if Sherlock was gay, no one would care. Well, no one who mattered, anyway, but he wasn’t, at least he didn’t think so. Sherlock could practically see John’s brain working, trying to put the pieces together.

“So... you’re not attracted to... boys... or anyone?” Sherlock hadn’t anticipated John cutting to the chase so fast and was silently pleased that he was quicker on the uptake than most other people seemed to be, or maybe Sherlock’s tolerance was just higher with John. But that didn’t curtail the frustration Sherlock felt at the whole situation.

“I don’t know! How do I prove the absence of something if I don’t even know how it would feel, were I to experience it. For all I know I could be attracted to people without recognising the feeling as such. Or maybe I just have impossibly high standards or... well something.” The logical answer would have been ‘Yes’, but for some reason Sherlock wasn’t willing to commit to that yet. Not before exploring any other line of reasoning he could think of.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Sherlock. In my experience, when you’re attracted to someone, you know that you are.” John answered after thinking for a bit. Sherlock was glad that he didn’t just laugh him off and that he seemed to have put some thought into his answer, but that didn’t change the fact that his answer had been rather unsatisfying.

“Exactly! In your experience! Maybe my experience is just different. That’s the inherent problem with human perception, it’s all subjective, one can never be sure, if others experience things the same way. Take colour for example, we can never be sure if other people see colours the same way we do. And it’s impossible to ask! We just agree that the grass is green and blood is red, but we can never be sure if my red looks the same as yours! If no one ever told the colour blind person that they can’t differentiate between red and green, they would never know they are missing something! And what are they seeing instead? Have you ever thought about that? It’s not grey because they can tell the difference between grey and red-or-green, so do they see a mix of the two colours, which would be brown so that doesn’t make sense for the same reason grey doesn’t work, or just one of the two, or something else entirely? How could they ever explain what they see, without having to use words they don’t fully understand?” Well, that had gotten longer and more convoluted than Sherlock intended, so he quickly stopped when he noticed John’s eyes starting to glaze over. Not in disinterest no, John’s eyes never did that when talking to Sherlock, but in the way they did just before Sherlock would lose John because he was speaking faster than John could think and introducing too many new concepts in too short a time.

“I think we’re getting a bit off tangent here,” John said when his brain had caught up to the conversation, “but I think I know what you are trying to say. Just tell me to shut up if I’m getting this horribly wrong. So what I got from this rant was that you wouldn’t even notice something missing if it wasn’t for everyone around you pairing up?”

“That was... well... mostly right. It’s not the pairing up part that clued me in. I understand... well, I think I understand that... mostly. The whole ‘basic human need for companionship’ thing, even I’m not quite immune to that...” He didn’t say:’...and you are the prime example for that’, because that would only be misunderstood, judging from how fast John had jumped to the ‘gay’ conclusion earlier.

“So what was it that ‘clued you in’ then?” Well, that one was easy.

“The constant questions about ‘who d’ya think is hot’ I don’t know the answer to. Not that anyone ever asked me that, but if they did... Back when this stuff started I thought the others didn’t know either and were just being immature and playing at being grown up, and when they didn’t stop once they actually did grow up, I chalked it up to being quite a bit younger than them and maybe a ‘late bloomer’ too, but I think we can safely rule that out by now. I do recognize good looking people as such though, but that might be learnt behaviour. Your ‘mates’ didn’t seem to talk about much else all through high school! Obviously I’d subconsciously as well as consciously pick up on the generally preferred traits and I can’t delete the subconscious, so I can’t find out if there’s any kind of... of opinion that’s truly my own! And then there’s the fact that I can just read someone’s life story the moment I meet them, so in contrast to everyone else, I will know whether someone is interesting before I even talk to them, but interesting doesn’t equal attractive does it? But it might be difficult to differentiate between the two, because both would make me want to interact with the other person.” Ah, John’s eyes were in danger of glazing again, better stop now.

“Yea I guess so...” Well that was helpful... Not! But he couldn’t really blame John for not having thought about these things before. John had never needed to, because he was almost annoyingly average in these things.

“So how do I know?” That should make him think about it.

“I’m not sure... well we’re talking about sexual attraction, right? So what about sex? Do you want sex?” Not a new question, Sherlock had posed it to himself already, but hadn’t been able to find an appropriate answer. Well, John might be able to help there too.

“I’m not sure. Everyone else seems to think it’s the greatest thing ever, but I just don’t see why. It’s not like one can’t achieve an orgasm on their own, which as far as I’ve been able to determine is generally the goal of sexual relations, so why would the presence of someone else make a difference, why go through all that trouble? What if I’m missing something, though? It’s not like I have any experience with the subject matter.” And wasn’t that the worst of it? The niggling doubt at the back of his mind whispering, that he couldn’t know until he tried. That he was missing out on something.

“Um...Okay. I think I have to disagree with you there Sherlock. Having a partner most definitely makes a difference, at least for me it does.”

“But how?”

“You do realise that you’re asking me to explain what generations of poets tried and mostly failed to put into words, right? After rugby practice and hours of studying? Just don’t be mad if I don’t make sense, okay?” John had a fond smile on his face, the one that always appeared when Sherlock demanded something that, according to John, was impossible.

“Fine, just try.” Sherlock knew that he probably wouldn’t get any sort of comprehensible answer from John, but apart from the poets John had mentioned, there really wasn’t anyone else to ask, so he’d take what he could get.

“It’s about having a connection with your partner, about knowing them – inside and out, about giving pleasure and receiving in return. Am I making any sense to you?” Not really, but John was trying to help and being a good friend, so that should be rewarded. He’d be generous.

“Partly, yes. The whole giving and receiving thing is like giving presents, I get that, but the rest of it... not so much. How would you get to know someone through sex, you’d learn something about them, sure, but only as pertaining to their preferences in the bedroom which makes this a circular argument: You want to have sex with them because you want to know what kind of sex they like, because you want to have sex with them. And apart from that, you’d have much better luck in getting to know someone by talking to them, or if you’re me, observation. It doesn’t make sense. And the connection thing: I know the hormones behind that, but it only makes sense in a relationship, because why would you want a connection with a stranger you’ll never see again? The same thing applies to the giving pleasure part. And yet there are a lot of people who pursue no-strings-attached-sex.”

“Huh. When you put it that way... Well, it seems like I can’t really explain it; it just is like that for me and I don’t know why.” Sherlock could see that John was getting tired and was frustrated with conversation, with the way Sherlock was yanking his supposedly unanimous truths out from under him, while he didn’t seem to be helping Sherlock at all. It was obvious that he was about to end the conversation and Sherlock wouldn’t have the courage to bring it up again. He needed to encourage John to continue, because he was in fact far more helpful than he thought he was.

“So we’re in the same boat now, we both don’t know why we think the way we do.” Sympathising with him and putting them on the same level normally did wonders for John’s willingness to cooperate.

“I wouldn’t say that, I’m the one who can’t explain myself, you have logical arguments and everything!” Well that hadn’t been very successful, apparently only the truth would do this time.

“Oh don’t be so hard on yourself John, I’ve been thinking about this for over a month now, you’ve only started less than an hour ago. Considering that, you’re doing very well. Now try again, and don’t worry, even if I don’t really understand your point of view, it helps to just... know what it is and I don’t think anyone else would be willing to tell me.” Very good, driving home the point that there was no one else Sherlock could ask, John had always responded well to Sherlock needing him.

“I don’t know, it’s just that at some point masturbation and fantasising doesn’t cut it anymore and I want the real thing and from what I’ve gathered it’s like that for most people.” Good. Still a bit frustrated, but willing to go on.

“But why would you care where your orgasm came from? It’s just a physical reaction, rub some nerve endings – get a result.”

“I don’t know what more I could tell you. That’s just not how it is for me, but I can’t explain why. Also there’s more to masturbation than just rubbing some nerve endings.” There was? Now things were getting interesting again.

“Not for me.” Was that weird?

“So you don’t... fantasise... or anything?” Should he be doing that?

“No, why would I? I thought that was for when you see someone you’d like to have sex with for whatever reason, but can’t.” Apparently he had been wrong – again. It was starting to grate how little he apparently understood about human nature. No wonder no one liked him.

“No it isn’t. I can’t really avoid it you know? When I have a wank my mind just wanders to my girlfriend or someone else and stays there, even if there wasn’t a concrete trigger. I take it, that doesn’t happen to you? You do masturbate, right? – It’s fine if you don’t, but from what you’ve said, I assumed...” John was floundering, afraid that he’d put his foot in his mouth and while Sherlock found it quite funny to watch that, he realised that a flustered John wasn’t a good conversationalist, so he decided to put him out of his misery.

“Yes I do, far less than you do, even when you are in a relationship providing you with regular sex, but on occasion, yes. And no my mind doesn’t wander anywhere when I do. It stays right where it was, before I started; could be my latest experiment, a murder case from the papers, my plans for the week, anything really.” John’s eyes had grown wide at the mention of the murder case. He knew about Sherlock’s fascination of course and had accompanied him on more than one occasion, but for some reason it bothered him now. Sherlock quickly thought back to John’s account of fantasising during masturbation. Oh! Well that misunderstanding could be cleared up easily: “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I don’t get aroused by those. They are just things to think about so I don’t get bored while I take care of the transport; the same things I think about when you make me eat or when I’m trying to fall asleep.” Sherlock saw John glance at his watch and knew that this was it, this was the end of their conversation, without having resolved anything, before John even had the chance to yawn and rub his eyes.

“Speaking of sleep, can we continue this tomorrow? I really don’t mean to be an arse, but I’m bloody knackered and liable to fall asleep sitting up if I don’t get to bed soon and that would probably be even more of a dick move.” Sherlock reluctantly got up, packed up his books and made his way to the door.

“Goodnight John.”

“Night Sherlock, we’ll talk more tomorrow, promise.”

They didn’t talk the next day, because John dislocated his shoulder during rugby practice and spent the rest of the day in A&E. He’d texted Sherlock to pick him up from hospital, but by the time they reached his dorm room weeks of late nights and early mornings had conspired with the painkillers he’d been given and knocked him out for good the moment his head touched the pillow. Sherlock knew he couldn’t blame John for getting himself hurt, but he still felt a little cheated. He was sure that the topic would never come up again, because tomorrow John had a date with his girlfriend so Sherlock would barely see him. After that there was a rugby match and while John wouldn’t be able to play with his injury, there was no way Sherlock would be able to dissuade him from watching and the drinks that always followed and then exam week would hit with a vengeance. All in all, enough time for John to forget that he’d promised to continue their conversation. Meanwhile Sherlock still wasn’t any closer to a solution. He hadn’t even found the problem yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock turned out to be only partly right, because right after his last exam John turned up on Sherlock’s doorstep, laptop in one hand Chinese takeaway in the other and a big grin on his face.

“Hi, you hungry?” John was already unpacking the food, making it clear that Sherlock’s answer didn’t matter in the least.

“No, but we both know that you’ll make me eat anyway.”

John chuckled and continued to distribute the food. They sat on the floor because both the desk and the table were overflowing with science equipment and other paraphernalia. They had some easy conversation over lunch, with John telling Sherlock about the riddle like questions of his dreaded biochemistry exam. The examiner had the annoying habit of asking questions that didn’t just require knowledge and understanding, but also the ability to think laterally in order to pinpoint the expected answers. Sherlock noticed an increasing uneasiness in John’s behaviour though, reminiscent of all the times John had had something important to say, but was wary about doing so, because he wasn’t sure about the reaction he’d get. The most recent time had been before they had started University, when John had told him that he was thinking about joining the army in order to be able to afford his studies. Sherlock had six different theories as to the cause, a possible continuation of their recent conversation as the most likely outcome He’d probably find out once the last of their food was cleared away.

“What we talked about last week, you know, about you, not being interested in sex…” Bingo!

“What about it?” He’d had all of fifteen minutes to prepare himself for this, but he’d take what he could get. If John wanted to talk, they’d talk.

“I promised that we’d continue talking, but somehow… Stuff got in the way.” Embarrassed shrug apologetic grimace, John wasn’t the type to break promises. Sherlock should have considered that when he’d calculated the necessary time for him to forget about it.

“I already knew it would, when you ended up in A&E the next day.” Sherlock had been going for bored and superior, but couldn’t help sounding a little bitter.

“I didn’t forget it though,” John had obviously picked up on the slight bitterness in Sherlock’s voice, “and I’ve wondered, have you ever tried looking it up?”

“What?”

“Looking it up on the internet, seeing if maybe you’re not the only one.” Wait, had John done that? When? His last exam had only ended fifteen minutes before he had knocked on Sherlock’s door, just enough time to pick up the food on the way, so before his last exam, which meant he had taken the time to look up Sherlock’s problem during exam week, when his ability to afford to eat the next term depended highly on his grades, which was... probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Sherlock.

“No, I assumed I’d only find a lot of married couples wondering if they aren’t attractive enough anymore or if their partner is cheating on them since that’s the usual conclusion if someone doesn’t want sex. I take it you have tried it?” John started to boot up his computer as soon as Sherlock showed any interest in the results, meaning that he had in fact found something and was eager to show it to Sherlock.

“Yes, and yes I found a lot of those, but I also found something else.” John sounded rather cheerful while saying it, so not only had he found something, but what he found didn’t mean that there was something wrong with Sherlock. John wasn’t the kind of person to be happy about a discovery that would make someone else unhappy, that would be more in line with Sherlock’s character.

“You did? So there are others?” Sherlock hadn’t meant for this to sound so hopeful, but there were already enough things that were wrong with him, according to most people, he didn’t need another one.

“You never even considered that possibility did you? You’re so used to being unique you just assumed you had to be unique in this too, right?” Unique. John had always been good at finding nice words for the undeniable fact, that Sherlock was different. While others called him weird, freakish or mental, John had always stuck to extraordinary, special or unique.

“So what did you find?” This time Sherlock didn’t even try to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“Asexuality, I’ve read a bit about it and it sounds a lot like what you described. I think it might be worth looking into.” The only context Sherlock had heard the word ‘Asexuality’ in had been in reproductive strategies in biology and that couldn’t be right, could it?

“Asexuality? I’m not an amoeba, John!”

“I’m not talking about asexual reproduction, Sherlock. It’s a sexual orientation; just wait a second, there’s a good explanation on that site I’ve found.”

Sherlock watched as John typed ‘asexuality.org’ into the browser window and pressed enter.

_An asexual person is a person who does not experience sexual attraction._

Well, so far it was accurate. Sherlock quickly appropriated John’s laptop to rapidly read through the Overview and the General FAQ. When he resurfaced John was looking at him expectantly.

“And? What do you think?” He was obviously eager to be proven right. There probably was an element of smugness at having reached the right conclusion before his clever friend as well, but since that really didn’t happen all that often, Sherlock decided to be generous and grant him that small victory.

“Sounds... like me.” John’s hopeful look turned into a small smile, but there was also compassion in his features.

“Does it help? Having a name for it?”

“I think so, yes, yes it does. I might be different, but there’s nothing wrong with me!”

John immediately broke into a wide grin and Sherlock couldn’t help but grin back just as widely.


End file.
